[Lloyd Banks]Man what the fuck are you lookin for?Can't a young nigga make money any moreBlow a couple grand in the nba StoreRock twenty-four thousand on the nba floorNiggaz be on stage bendin over on tourLeave anti-social with a case of lochjawJust cause shorty look good, don't mean that you should goPuttin ice on the bitch like she won the SuperbowlEven the chips are low, for all these so-called old headsJust ain't the same niggaz I used to knowI got a Houston ho - nah she ain't the sharpest knifeIn the drawer but she a damn good booster thoughSee I could fuck a supermodel in my day of workSend her home with a smile and a couple kids on her shirtI got a year into the gameA 141 rocks layin on my chain, geah!

[Chorus: Lloyd Banks]Just another day, chillin in the hoodJust another day around the wayI'm tipsy off the HennessyWe ridin round with the H-K, nigga we don't playJust another day, chillin in the hoodJust another day around the wayWe smoke a quarter pound a dayG-Unit we here to stay, nigga we don't play

[Lloyd Banks]Nevermind the lames in my era, they all want me deadAnd I know, it's all over the way I see breadHere I go, caught up in some he say/she said'Til I go, put a slug in my enemy's headThe Tahoe's, bulletproof so you can't get throughThen follow, your ass and whoever ran with youAnd you about as assed-out as two jammed pistolsBleedin around a bunch of niggaz who can't fix youSo bring yours, cause you know I got mine with me kidThe 8'll make you lose weight like Missy didThe O. G. 's tryin to hide they phony smilinReputation always arise in Coney IslandI'm at your local newsstand jerkWhile the only xxl you been in as a shirtAnd, speakin of shirts, get a new white TGod damn it feels good to be me - nigga!

[Chorus:]

[Lloyd Banks]Now I'm goin, shoppin with a plastic card nowI'm growin, knockin international broads downThey know him, they're not gonna even pat the star downI'm holdin, a glock so don't even act that hard nowYou might bust your gun but your gat's in the car clownSo break your lil' weed up and crack your cigars downCause I ain't tryin to start my visits, with the fuckin judgeGivin niggaz life like it's parkin ticketsNow I get to go to bed with a modelAnd the crib is bout as big as it is on the Belvedere bottleI got all kind of ex' I could ram in they facesRed and blue pills like the man in The MatrixYou might have spent some paper on your lil' charm butMy piece is bout as heavy as Lil' Jon cupBut, it's never tucked, nigga I don't give a fuckI'll get bucked 'fore I give somethin up, yup!